#498 Perfectly flawed
Maybe, when you take away the flaws, the whole fabric disintegrates.
Maybe we’re perfectly flawed.
Maybe, when you take away the flaws, the whole fabric disintegrates.
Maybe we’re perfectly flawed.
Unique value often lies in seemingly strange combinations.
The beekeeping lawyer.
The pro soccer player with an astrophysics degree.
The theologist waking up early every morning to go surfing.
The public servant spending their evenings performing at the local stand-up comedy bar.
The motorcycle repair shop owner writing philosophy books.
The chess champion with a Brazilian Ju-Jitsu black belt.
Societal pressure and expectations make such combinations unlikely. Out of the ordinary. Maybe even undesirable: an obstacle to conformity.
And if it’s undesirable, it becomes rare.
And here’s the twist: what’s rare usually becomes valuable.
Because there’s nothing incompatible about these combinations – in fact, the skills you practice may well complement each other in unique and valuable ways.
What could be an unexpected complement for your life?
Something you’re secretly interested in, but – according to society – doesn’t fit who you are (or who you’re supposed to be)?
“You already know what I’m going to say,” the mentor I don’t have tells me.
It’s true.
I don’t need anyone to tell me what to do.
Neither do you.
All you need is someone to remind you to do what you already know.
If you had constant presence of mind, you could remind yourself.
But if you’re anything like me, your clarity gets lost in day-to-day desires, worries, and chores.
And that’s fine.
Because that’s what you’re here for, no?
Not to learn what your life should look like but to receive a reminder to live it daily?
Left? Right? Give up? Keep going? Turn back?
Maybe I’ll end up where I must end up, no matter what I decide.
Maybe the flow of life will show me where to go.
Only when you let yourself practice what you preach
Each and every day
Do you stand a chance at becoming good at what you practice
This is the only way
In his book The Art of Learning (and his podcast episodes with Tim Ferris), Josh Waitzkin, former chess player and martial artist, introduces the concept of “hidden reps” when learning something new:
I think that where the really potent, low-hanging fruit hanging in plain sight lie are in the thematic, are in breaking down the learning process into the core principles or themes you want to work on and doing reps of those. Those are just invisible to people in plain sight.
Josh Waitzkin on the Tim Ferris Podcast: https://tim.blog/2020/03/14/josh-waitzkin-transcript-412/
In other words, find “neglected skills“: situations you don’t often find yourself in and where you haven’t developed a lot of trust and confidence in your abilities yet.
Then isolate and practice them until you develop confidence and trust for that particular neglected skill.
For example, when working on his chess game, instead of practicing the “openings” like everybody else, Josh would isolate the “end games”(the final part of a chess match) and practice only these.
Most people wouldn’t think of doing that; they would always start at the opening (that’s where a chess match starts, after all) and practice the end game only as an afterthought, deep into their practice session when they had already spent all their energy on the opening.
By cutting out the opening entirely during practice sessions, Josh got a lot more “hidden reps” with the end game than his competitors, which led to a big competitive advantage.
This might seem obvious, but in my experience, it’s really quite counterintuitive not to start at the beginning when practicing a skill.
For example, when learning a new guitar piece, it feels strange not to start at the beginning but to pick out a difficult part and practice that over and over again. It’s not impossible, and many teachers will tell you to isolate difficult parts, but my (and many other students’) first instinct would always be to start at the top, over and over again.
Which begs the question:
Where else are we “starting from the top” over and over again, instead of finding and isolating the neglected skills?
Some examples of how I’m trying to integrate this principle into my life:
Neglected skills are everywhere. No matter what you’re trying to learn or achieve, creating the circumstances where you can identify and isolate them, then put in the hidden reps, will pay big dividends.
Goals make you write every day and enjoy the process, even if you’ll never publish a book.
Goals make you practice yoga and get to know your body, even if you’ll never be able to be in that ultimate pose.
Goals makes you help someone and learn to give and contribute, even if your help ultimately doesn’t get them to the place they wanted to go.
Goals don’t predict outcomes. Because the purpose of a goal is not to achieve it, but to set the direction of your life.
It gives you the fuel to start taking action, and the guidance to make sure that action is intentional.
I don’t know about you, my friend, but to me, that’s a fulfilling thought.